Never drink with strangers
by Marika Haliwell
Summary: Elissa Ironshield and her housecarl Lydia decide to have a drink at the Inn in Windhelm. Something goes wrong


Elissa Ironshield was a daughter of Skyrim and the younger scion of the Ironshield clan from Riften. All her ancestors followed the tradition of being honored warriors and skilled craftsmen. Their weapons were high priced merchandise and if someone could afford a sword or a shield crafted by her famous father … well... they were either very rich or very good in the battle. Elissa however wasn't any of that. Just from spite towards her parents who wanted to marry her off to some high placed Jarl living in some backwater city, she decided to join the College of Mages and run for her life.

Escaping from the Imperial ambush with the head still attached on her shoulders, she found herself helping people for coin, only to be bestowed with a title and a house in Witherun. She also found an adventuring companion in Lydia.

Now, the honorary Thane of Breezehold scoured out of the Jarl's Palace with a sniggering Lydia in tow. She came in Winterfell to join Ulfric Stormcloack's rebellion; she came out with more questions and doubts than she had before stepping foot in the Palace. It didn't help that no matter how much of her cleavage showed to that man, Ulfric wouldn't give her a glance.

"Stop pouting, my Thane. Obviously, the man had something else in his mind. Maybe next time you will be in luck?"

Elissa stopped the urge to shoot a lightning bolt at her housecarl. Every damned time Lydia would say "my Thane", she had the impression that the other woman was pulling her leg.

"Oh well, maybe he is not into women?"

This time, Lydia didn't hide her amusement at Elissa's expense. "Says the fox looking at the sour grapes."

Trying to preserve what pride she had left, Elissa opened the last gate with a firm hand … only to step into a blazing sun. She retreated back in the shadows gasping and covering her burned eyes.

Lydia shook her head and sighed. "I know you like the power the vampire blood gives you, but maybe next time we are nearby that guy researching that cure, maybe we should pay him a visit?'

"Absolutely not. I can stand a little sun, no big deal. I am a good vampire too; I never feed on people; it should count to something."

Lydia smiled wickedly. "It's really interesting to wonder if people are so dumb when they are asking you if you are afraid of sun, or something."

Elissa gave her an incredulous look. "Are you serious? What about you yelling _burn the vampire,_ every time we fight? You say that even when it is a skeever!"

"Because it's fun!"

"I am thirsty. Let's go find an Inn and a tankard of good mead." – said Lydia with a hopeful look.

"That's a good idea."

After a little of asking around, they were directed to the town's best Inn.

Elissa still had a head full of questions about her new assignment and voiced her doubts to Lydia. As usual, Lydia made her opinion heard, without mincing a word.

"The nords and Bretons hate the elves. The elves hate everybody and everyone hates whatever they can hate. Neither the Legion nor the Stormcloacks are the innocents they want to play. Why did we ask to join Ulfric, in the first place?"

Elissa sighed dreamily. "Because he's cute and has those big arms …"

Lydia stumbled over a loose cobblestone and hit the ground with a big thud. Gathering herself from the floor, the warrior woman stared at her friend.

"You can't be serious!" – Then she grabbed Elissa by her robe's collar and with the free hand showed her the big bag she was carrying.

"Look here! That racist moron gave us only 5 potions against cold and sent us on our way! To kill an ice wraith! To prove him that we are good for his rebellion! A … fucking … ice wraith! To prove ourselves worthy of a rebellion! He could have sent us to infiltrate an Imperial camp, storm a keep, spy in Solitude; but noooo … he sent us to a Gods' forsaken island! Where is this island, anyway?"

"Ummm. Somewhere North?"

"It will be a miracle if we get there, in one piece." – Lydia kicked a small pack of snow. "And it will be snow and cold. Can we just leave this place and find us a nice beach? "

"Look at the bright side. Windhelm, Winterhold … all these towns have Winter in them. I could say that we are a winter's representative? So when we get there, you can shout _Winter is coming!_ At whatever inhabits those lands."

Lydia sighed mournfully. "Just get inside will you?"

Two ladies, of noble origins by their attire looked at Elissa with a critical eye then turned their back and began whispering.

The mage narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why are they gossiping about me? And one of them looks at my robe. What's wrong with it?"

"Except that not even a homeless would wear it? Nothing, really."

"I have to admit; the looks lack a little but the enchantments on it are great and sturdy. That vampire master didn't need it after his demise. My grandfather always said – _If your enemy is dead, you should help him looting his belongings. He won't need them anymore._

The mead hall was almost empty except for the barmaid and a man drinking at the counter. He spied the two women ordering their ale and moved his seat closer to Elissa.

"Hello there. I am Sam."

After presenting themselves, more because that was polite than because the man was worthy of a closer look, Sam smiled, showing a mouth filled with rotten teeth and smelling like a week's old dead fish.

"What do you say about a small drinking contest? You could win a nice staff. A cute mage like you could use it."

Before Elissa could say something, Lydia dragged her on the other side of the tavern, out of ear's reach.

"No. We won't have a drinking contest. I have a bad feeling about this."

Elissa made her best puppy eyes at her friend. "Awww, c'mon! That guy is already drunk. I can drink him under the table in three rows. After all the stale mead wine and ale I looted from those tombs, my stomach is like a rock. Can take whatever I throw at it."

Reluctantly, Lydia sighed and went back to the counter.

"All right. We accept."

Sam smiled deviously. " Drink up, then."

And drink they did. Until a fog crept behind Elissa eyes and she fell under the table. Lydia was far long gone; the mage suspected that it was after the fourth tankard but she wasn't sure.

Pain. Head splitting pain. And someone hitting her ribs with their foot; or at least seemed so. Then, came the shower of freezing water. Elissa jumped on her feet, spluttering and cursing every known God.

"Wake up, you drunkard! You will clean up your mess or I will have you both thrown in the prison. This Temple is not yours to desecrate with your drinking and dancing. The gal! No one ever dared to kiss Dibella's statue until now. You will clean all those empty bottles and sweep the floor, water the plants and start the fires for the night. Now!"

Elissa's jaw hit the floor and Lydia gapped like a fish out of the water.

When finally found the power to speak, Elissa croaked. "Dibella? There's not Dibella's Temple in Windhelm."

The priestess looked at Elissa like she wasn't entirely sane. "Windhelm? No, you are in Markath."

"Markath? But is on the other side of Skyrim! It takes months from Windhelm to get here."

Lydia grabbed Elissa's arm and sook her. "I told you to not drink with strangers. Look what brought us." – Then turning towards the priestess, she asked. "Do you know by chance, of a man called Sam? It was him who brought us here … I think?"

The holly woman started to laugh, soon joined by the others worshippers.

"Poor dears. That trickster found another victim. The only thing I know is that he usually stays around Rorikstead. You should ask there. After you clean up, of course." – saying this, she handed to the unfortunate guests, brooms and buckets.

Sweeping furiously, Lydia seethed at her companion. "You owe me, big time."

"Well, my grandfather had a word of wisdom for situations like this … "

Lydia let her broomstick fall onto Elissa's head. "Your grandfather raised an idiot."


End file.
